


Lucky

by queenofthelab23



Category: Jem Coughlin - Fandom, The Town (2010)
Genre: F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthelab23/pseuds/queenofthelab23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's St. Patrick's Day and Jem Coughlin walks into your club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Completely, unapologetically explicit. I own nothing, sadly. Though most of me would belong to Jeremy Renner given half a chance.

There’s only one day of the year where you’d willingly give in to your lust for a certain motherfucker of a townie: Jem Coughlin is an ass, a thief, dangerous and dark and, fuck it, you’re scared of him for the other 364 days of the year. Just once, for one day, you’d give in. Or at least, you would in your mind. He’s got a reputation of the worst kind but he wears it well and bravely proud too, the stupid cunt. That swagger and panty-melting smirk he had around girls and fuck you attitude would be etched on his gravestone soon enough. Jem Coughlin would never change, can never change; he won’t do it for his brother, he won’t change for family or girls or even something as fucking stupid as love. Jem wears his reputation like the coppers wore their badges, flashing it for free drinks and impressing the strippers in the club. He comes in once a month, regular like, and he always watches you the most but pretends not to. Jem and his friends are treated like fucking kings here and you know he gets off on the power his reputation pulls over the dancers, the waitresses, the bartender, even the fucking bouncers. Every time he comes in to see you dance, your resolve against accepting his offers slipped a little more. But that night, you had no idea what a cocky motherfucker like Jem Coughlin would do to protect what he sees as his and only his. There’s a whole lot about Jem that turns you on and makes your resolve break, but protecting you? You just had to thank him properly, and lucky for him, it was on his favourite night of the year.

 

St Patrick’s. Cold, damp weather didn’t keep the hordes away from the club and you were raking in the tips. Of course you were. You were the picture of their fantasies; chocolate-coloured curled hair, dark red lips and a tight forest green corset laced with gold that made your curves sparkle and shimmer under the lights, catching the eye of every dumb fuck in the place looking for a dance and a good time, drunk as they were on the biggest night of the year in town. You were just bussing tables, serving until you got called onto the stage when he walked in through the door, friends in tow behind him like disciples. Jem’s lips curled into that panty-melting smirk again as he spotted you next to some group’s table, setting their drinks down and pocketing the tip. You put the tray under your arm and swayed your hips a little more as you walked past him, smiling. He might be a motherfucking ass but he tipped better than anyone and keeping him on a short leash was good for both your wallet and your sanity.   
“Hey boys.” You smiled sweetly at them, “You gonna have some fun tonight?”  
“Just watchin’ you walk away’s enough for me, princess.” Jem smirked and chewed on the toothpick in his mouth, “Always is.”

You just shook your head, chuckling as they took a table next to the stage, watching the girls decked in green gyrate around the poles to the music. You got them their usual, beer and Jameson, and looked up. Jem’s eyes weren’t anywhere near the stage. They were on you, searing into your exposed flesh and trying to see under the corset, trying to tear it away from you so he could see the goods. Jem always looked at you like that, like you were the only girl in the club he ever wanted even though you knew it was all bullshit and bravado. Him looking made you feel naked and wanted and objectified more than dancing around a pole for fifty other guys did and it made you uneasy how quickly he got to you. Steeling yourself, you carried over the trays of drinks and set them down on the boys’ table, his eyes following you.   
“Four fingers, right princess?” Jem muttered as he picked up his glass of Jameson to his lips for a taste, the glint in his eye the same danger as his swagger.  
“Four and a splash. It’s a special day.” You smirked and picked the five dollar tip from his fingers.   
His eyes danced over your skin again and you weren’t sure whether to run or plant yourself on his lap to feel him beneath you. “You up there soon, right?” he said huskily, after his taste, leaning in closer, “You know you’re the only reason we come to this shit dive, right?”  
You looked up at him, “I’m up in five. Get your twenties ready, Jem.” Because you couldn’t resist, you ran a finger under his chin and felt harsh stubble and toughened skin, jumping at the electricity. “It’s gonna be your night.” 

The lights were down low, the music soft and sensual like you liked it. Dancing up on stage was, still is, the biggest thrill you ever had and you loved it. More than just the money, it’s the power and the energy, the eyes of adoring men fawning at your feet. Sure there were creeps and guys who took it too far but then there’s the guys like Jem who went out of their way just to see you move: they made the weirdoes worthwhile. You step out in your green and gold heels, special for the day, and wrap a leg around the pole to the slow music, bending all the way back as your breasts spilled over the top of your corset. He was there, as always, front and centre, eyes burning into you like the Jameson he had in his hand. You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you pulled yourself back up and swayed around the pole, dancing like it’s just him in the crowd leering at you in his way. He scared you too much to touch him, to get that close to the gun you knew was stashed in the back of his stolen Levi’s but fuck, those eyes got you every time. You skirted danger and wriggled down onto your hands and knees, ignoring Jem’s sparking eyes as you went towards some poor fucker at the end of the stage throwing tens at your feet. He wasn’t from round here, you could tell, or he would’ve been more careful about who he pissed off. Poor-fuck stared at your tits as you crawl over to him and sat back on your haunches; gyrating and feeling the music pull through you like strings tugging at your willing limbs. Poor-fuck adjusted his crotch, looking at you like a predator on prey. You wiggled around more, arms raised and clutching the pole behind you.   
“Hey baby…” Poor-fuck yelled out, grabbing Jem’s attention (you smirked at that) “Take it off for me and it’s all yours.” He waved a fifty up close as you stood up, plucking the money from his hand and slipping it into your panties.  
“What the customer wants…” you muttered softly, turning around. You caught Jem’s eyes, darting between you and the Poor-fuck, his own knuckles white as he gripped the wood of his chair. “He gets.” Your hands slither down your waist and tug at the gold string holding the corset together. Jem’s eyes burned your fingers, your neck and your collar as you pulled the string out, your corset falling to the floor. The crowd around went wild as your sequined green clover nipple covers were revealed, the only thing covering your bare breasts. You could see Jem, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stared. You smirked internally and turned around to jump and swing at the pole, shaking everything you had as the bills started to roll in around your feet, the hollers and catcalls spurred you on to run your own fingers over your body, teasing at the dark green silk of your panties. The last track of your run finished and you smiled, taking a bow as you collected the tips.   
Jem held out a hundred between his fingertips and you snatched it up, “You mine tonight, princess?” he called, loud enough to mark his territory over the Poor-fucker waiting for you.  
“All yours, baby.” You winked and looked around for your corset, frowning. “Where-” you sighed as you saw Poor-fucker dangling it by its gold strings. “Hey honey, I need that back.” You bent over the end, holding out your hand for the corset as Poor-fucker laughed at you, snatching it from your reach.  
“Mine now, hot stuff. You want it, come down here and get it.” He and his friends were all drunk and dressed in green shirts and dirty jeans, ripe with beer and whatever crap they drank that wasn’t Jameson. They weren’t even in Jem and Dougie’s realm of danger but you knew you couldn’t swing much of a punch if you had to, though you could certainly get a good kick in his balls and were contemplating it.  
“Just give it back, buddy, alright?” Your feet were aching, chest bare and not on your terms. This was what guys like Poor-fucker wanted, you at their mercy and getting angry, their control over you pissing the girls off and making them laugh. You fucking hated him in that instant and cursed.   
“Motherfucker.” You walked down the steps from the stage as elegantly as you could and tried to grab the corset back from the guy’s grip. “Hey, dumbass, give me the costume back or I’ll get you thrown out of here with your balls in my purse!”  
He just laughed and shook his head, “Don’t be like that baby, I saw them eyes you was giving me, you love it. How about a little dance? Or we can head in the back if you want.”   
Scowling, you gestured to the bouncers just as he grabbed your arm, “Hey, get the fuck off me!”  
Out of nowhere, or somewhere you couldn’t tell, Jem’s long fingers wrapped around Poor-fucker’s wrist and squeezed tight until he let your arm go. “Something wrong with your ears, you fuckin’ limp dick eater? Give her back her shit and I won’t have to break your wrist like a fuckin’ twig, ya hear me?” The veins in his arms were popping out, his whole hand clamped around the other guy’s small wrist. Jem could break him, pop out the socket and shatter the bones into dust if he wanted and you know he wanted to. Shit, that was a fucking turn on right there. As if you didn’t love the bad boy side of Jem already, here he was, claiming and protecting you. You should have been offended.  
“Fuck, whatever, here!” he shoved the corset at you, and you wrapped it around your chest again, relieved at having got some control back. Jem reluctantly let Poor-fucker’s wrist go as Doug muttered something in his ear you couldn’t hear over the rabble.   
“Get these guys out.” You said as the bouncers came over, rubbing your arm a little, “Make sure they don’t get back in.” you slipped the bouncers a ten each and swallowed as the gathered crowd dispersed. Fuck. Running your fingers through your hair, you went to thank Jem but he was nowhere. Fucker never stayed to get a thank you. 

You bussed and serve tables again for twenty minutes before you saw a glimpse of Jem again, this time sitting up the bar alone, the people around him giving him a wide berth after his escapade. You swallowed and tapped him on the shoulder, “Hey.”  
He didn’t answer right away or even blinked, just sipped his Jameson and stared down, though you could see the tension in his shoulder ready to break, “Ain’t good you being round me tonight.” He swigged from his glass and looked at you with pitch-black eyes, “Touch me with that soft skin again and I won’t let you stop me like you always fuckin’ do.” He chuckled dangerously, “I ain’t stoppin’ this time.”   
Swallowing, you leaned in closer to him, “I told you, Jem, it’s your lucky night.”  
Jem licked his lip, watching as you reached under the top of your corset and peeled off one of the clover nipple covers, slipping onto the bar in front of him, “I’m all yours tonight.”  
He chuckled darkly again and stood up, downing his Jameson, one hard, calloused hand grabbing yours tighter than you expected, enough to anchor you to him, “You’re gonna regret lettin’ me, princess, I guaran-fucking-tee it.”

There’s no way that this was going to be a good idea but fuck it, he’d seen off some drunk dickhead and you’d gotten off on it; you wanted Jem the thug townie to mark you, claim you, make you his, if only just for one fucking amazing night. All those times you danced and saw his eyes, begging you for more, how you’d held off from letting him touch you like he was begging you, you had no idea. If this was going to be your slip up in indulging Jem fucking Coughlin, you’d make it one hell of a slip, something he would always remember; fuck the other strippers, fuck the other girls he’d had: you were the one he’d remember for the rest of his fucking life. You led him back to the private rooms and shut the door behind you both, the air thick and dark with lust and low lights.   
“You got me, Jem.” You muttered, stepping up close to him, crowding him, “All the times you slipped bills down my panties, every time I shoved my tits in your face knowin’ you couldn’t even touch me, I loved it, I loved controlling you.” You smirked and pushed him back towards the couch, a little rougher than he was expecting. “What d’you want from me, now you got me?”  
“Oh princess,” he said, his eyes burning into yours as he slid a palm around to your back and anchored you to him, refusing to bow down to your control, “I want everything and I always get what I want.” He suddenly reached up and pulled hard at your hair, making you gasp. Your stomach did somersaults as he leaned into your neck, “Dance for me.”  
Oh shit. It was too much, he left you bereft when he backed up and sat on the couch, leaning backwards with his shit-eating grin where it belonged. 

The music from the club could easily be heard in your private room, some sensual beat they always played after a fight. You didn’t break your gaze from his as you stepped between his open legs and started to twist and turn to the beat. Jem relaxed against the sofa, looking you up and down as your nimble hands ran from your collar to your ass, turning around in the process and bending before sliding back up. He made you want to drive him to the brink, to make him snap and buckle his control only for you. Fucker had more power than he knew or that you were ever gonna tell him about.  
You were about to turn back around when he grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap, those calloused hands fitting around your waist and lifting you like you were nothing, fitting snug onto his crotch. “Come ‘ere.” He muttered against your neck again, his stubble scratching your tender skin as his hands splayed out on your stomach, itching to pull at those strings. “You feel that, baby? What you’re fuckin’ doing to me?” You swallowed and nodded. His hard cock, even under his jeans, was easily felt against the softness of your thigh and ass and you ground a little down into him. “Fuck, you’re gonna play that game, huh?” he growled. He smelled of nothing you didn’t expect, of whiskey and musk and pure, unadulterated man and it made you shiver.  
“Not a game this time, Jem.” You slid your hands over his and guided them to those golden strings. “Pull.”  
His fingers caught a string each and tugged hard, the knots slipping away with your corset. Jem pulled it apart onto the floor and groaned; his hands on your stomach heavy and caressing your skin, “Shit.” You ground down onto his crotch a little more, “Turn around, wanna see those fuckin’ gorgeous tits of yours, princess.” He licked his lips. Sliding away from him, you turned and placed a knee either side of his lap but Jem grabbed you roughly and slipped you back onto his crotch, “Yeah, just like that.” He reached up and ripped off the other nipple cover, chuckling, “I almost came watching you tonight, baby.”  
“You liked these?” you slid your hand up to cover your breasts, tossing your curled hair backwards, “You wanted to touch ‘em, didn’t you? Wanted to bite and suck and pinch and twist…” Jem’s hands shot up and gripped your wrists, pulling them away from your tits as he watched. “Jem!”  
“I ain’t got control.” He put both of your tiny wrists into one of his big calloused hands and gripped them behind your back, “Don’t make me tie you up, princess.” He threatened, leaning in and sucking your breast into his mouth. He was relentless as he bit, sucked, and lathed with his tongue across your skin, sending sparks of electric blue up your spine. He grinned, “Your pussy gettin’ wet for me already, baby?”   
“Jem let my hands go.” You panted a little, “Please.”  
He just chuckled, his free palm caressing your other breast as he went back to biting and sucking the other. His tongue was talented already and you felt the wetness in your panties soak through the thin fabric. You absently hoped he felt it through his jeans; what little control he had to not fuck you senseless would snap like a twig the second he felt it. “Ain’t lettin’ you go until you come for me, princess. You wind me up every fuckin’ time you danced on that stage, shaking that gorgeous ass in my face. How many times I weren’t meant to touch you, now you ain’t gonna touch me. Not til you earned it, you fuckin’ cock tease.”   
His free hand on your tits slid down and cupped your soaking cunt outside your panties, making you cry out and whimper, “Fuck!”  
Jem growled and you knew he felt your heat, your juices soaked through and nearly dripping, “Hot damn…” he caught your eyes, “You want it, don’t you? You want my big fat cock in your wet cunt, pounding you hard, making you come hard over and over…” he smirked as you tried to wrestle your wrists from his grip. “Say it, sweetheart or I won’t do it.”  
“Like fuck you wouldn’t.”   
Jem’s fingers slid under your panties, pushing them aside and felt your folds. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Seems like I got more control than you do now, princess. Say it.”  
He slid a thick finger into your pussy and you cried out his name, helpless and liking it. “Jem, please,” his thumb pressed onto your clit and rubbed delicately, barely skirting the thrill you craved. He’d turned you into nothing but a body in need, in need of him. “Make me come,” he stopped his thumb and you nearly sobbed in agonising frustration. “Fuck.” You resigned yourself to him, “I do, I want your big cock in me, make me come over you. I want it Jem. Fuck me, here, now, I don’t care, just fucking give it to me!”  
“That’s my girl.” He growled and rubbed your clit furiously, sliding another thick finger into your cunt, “So fuckin’ wet, baby. Bet you’d taste like honey on my tongue…” he watched you under heavy lidded eyes as you bucked onto his fingers, desperate to come over him. “So fuckin’ hot,” he licked those plump lips of his and twisted his fingers sharply. Jem made you come hard as he promised, imploding into orgasm around those thick digits. You knew he could feel your tight muscles contract and spasm uncontrollably, desperate for something bigger to clench down on. It was fucking electric. Never had you let any guy at the club touch you, let alone make you come but Jem had just given you the best gift you’d ever get; devoted pleasure. Seeing him get off on watching you come made you want to ride him even more.

“Holy shit, princess.” He slid his finger out from you, letting your aching wrists go. “That was fuckin’ hot. Moaning like a little cock slut for me,” he made a show of licking his glistening fingers clean. “I was right. Like honey.”   
“Jesus.” You whispered, trying not to collapse on top of him, “You’re a fucker, Jem.”  
He laughed and wrapped his arms around your waist, pitching you forward onto him with a sigh, “Gonna be fuckin’ you, princess.” He slid those fucking strong hands to your ass and rocked your hips over his crotch, making you moan again, “Yeah, take off these for me.” He pulled at your soaked, ruined panties, making the elastic snap onto your skin.  
If you’d protested, he wouldn’t care. All you could do was stand and slide those green panties off as he tugged off his shirt. All thoughts were lost at the sight of his hard muscled torso, tense but strong. You licked your lips and looked at him, those fucking tats on his steel arms, the gold cross settled between his muscles. He was born to fuck, born to be a testosterone fuelled leader of a man and you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone in your life. He was fuckin’ class A smack and you were the addict this time around.   
“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” he smirked as he unzipped his jeans, just shoving them down enough to get his hard cock springing free. “What about this view, huh?” he wrapped his palm around his cock, thick and veined like his arms, “You want this?”  
“Fuck yes.” You nodded, sliding onto his lap. You felt the tension thrumming within him, licking your lips at the sight of him underneath your willing flesh. “Want your cock bad, Jem.”  
“That’s my little slut.” He held your hips and brought you crashing down onto his cock hard, making you call his name. He stretched and filled your cunt almost to the brink, “Fuck baby. So tight. Gonna destroy that tight little pussy, princess. You ain’t gonna walk right after tonight.” He bit down hard onto your shoulder and fucked up into your wetness, the sound of your hips moving together making it so fucking real, so fucking amazing you had to dig your nails into his back for purchase. He growled again, a sound you fucking loved to hear, and made you ride him hard. “Fuck so good.” He palmed your tits, twisting and pinching your nipples and making you cry out, on the brink between pleasure and pain. He was a master of manipulation. “Gonna make you scream my name, baby. Make sure this whole place hears you come on my cock.”  
You moaned and writhed, muscles in your legs aching and protesting but it felt so damn good, “Fuck yes. I want it so bad.” You bit down onto his neck and made him cry out in shock, “You gonna show me how a man fucks, Jem?”  
“Cock tease.” He groaned and lifted you up like you weighed nothing in his arms, kicking off his jeans as he did. He cock slid even deeper into you, “You want a fucking? I’ll give it to you.” He slammed your whole body against the back wall and pulled your knees wide apart.  
“Holy fuck!” you screamed as he started fucking you screwing you senseless, remorselessly pounding your tight pussy, “Jem!”  
“Shit, fuck,” he muttered, “So fucking tight.” He leaned back and looked at you, kissing the moans with his dirty lips. “Still taste like honey.”   
You bit down onto his lip, starting to come. You felt the little waves of pleasure start to snake through and grip your whole body, “Jem!” you screamed as he pounded, sweat beading between both of you. “FUCK!” You came again, scratching your nails deep into his back.  
Jem fucked you through his, you could feel the tension in him, “I’m gonna come.” He said through gritted teeth.  
He pulled out of your boneless body and you slid to your knees, “Need to taste you.” You sucked his cock hard into your mouth and he exploded on your tongue, gripping your hair between his fingers as you drained him dry.  
Jem panted and looked down, licking his lips as you swallowed his come and licked your own lips, “Princess.”  
“You don’t taste like honey Jem.” You smirked, standing up, “You taste like sex.”  
“I’m not the only one with a filthy mouth.” He took your hand and helped you up, “You’re coming home with me, princess. Right fucking now.”  
You looked into his eyes, black and blue fire again. You were addicted to him and now you always would be. Your weak head nodded and lips curled into a copy of his panty-melting grin, “Guess I’m the lucky one tonight.”


End file.
